


Never Grow Up

by PickleandtheQueen



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 15:46:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5010526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PickleandtheQueen/pseuds/PickleandtheQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Piccolo desperately wishes that two little ones in his life - Gohan and Dende - would just stay little...</p><p>Originally posted on my FFN as a multi-chapter. I didn't see a point in breaking it up while bringing it over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Grow Up

Silence, that nearly unattainable state of nature, presided over the Lookout. It was so rare elsewhere, yet here, so high above the Earth's surface, where not even the blaring horns and other city noises could reach, it was shocking how easily it was obtained.

He sighed, the faintest ghost of a smile flitting across his lips for a nanosecond before he hid it away again. Completely relaxed; head bowed, arms crossed across his well-muscled chest, legs folded underneath, Piccolo floated a few feet above the tiled floor of the Lookout. He reveled in the Silence, knowing that even here, in a god's palace, that Silence was only temporary, and fleeting.

It may have been one hour, two, or five. Or it could have been fifteen minutes. Either way, the silence ended far too soon for him. If he couldn't have his waterfall, then he wanted silence. However, it seemed that a certain young-Kami-in- training was in desperate need of companionship.

Dende approached cautiously, not wishing to disturb Piccolo, as the older Namekian had a tendency for testiness when drawn out of his meditation in the wrong way. Before Dende had a chance to speak up, Piccolo said gruffly: "lonely, eh?"

Dende nodded nervously, "y-yes sir."

"You do realize I'm not much good for company, right?" Piccolo chuckled, slowly and purposefully unfolding from his meditation. "Are you bored, or simply missing the companionship of other Namekians?"  
Dende shuffled his feet, seemingly very interested in his shoes.

"Um, well..." he gulped, "actually..."

Piccolo raised a brow, "Spit it out, Dende."

The young Namekian flushed, green skin taking on an oddly magenta hue, then he blurted out "I miss being around other children!" Dende clutched his burgundy vest tightly, wringing the fabric in his hands.

"Is that it?" Piccolo asked, privately thinking that Dende would benefit from a month or two alone in the wilderness. Kami knows the boy needed to toughen up! If he was to become Kami's successor in truth, then he needed to have more of a back bone, if approaching "grumpy old Mr. Piccolo" was too terrifying a task, then acting as Guardian of the Earth would be impossible. Pondering how much trouble he would be in if he left Dende alone where he'd dumped Gohan, Piccolo was brought back to his senses when the other two beings in his head mentally kicked him, Nail delivering quite a nasty one too. Shaking off his thoughts and fusions, Piccolo returned his attention to the young Guardian. "How about I take you to see Gohan?" as the words came out, Piccolo's excitement grew - not outwardly noticeable, of course - at the prospect of seeing his closest friend. It had been almost two months since they had last spent any quality time together. These days, Gohan was too busy helping his mother to care for his three month old brother, Goten. Lately, Gohan had been able to manage only a short spar a few times a week, just enough to maintain his fighting shape.  _Barely enough..._  Piccolo thought sourly. Although Gohan was no longer in peak condition, he was still more than strong enough to best Piccolo in a match. A wry smile crossed his emerald lips. "Yes, I think a visit to Gohan would be good for us - for you." Piccolo corrected himself quickly, but he knew that Dende had heard his slip up.

The young Namekian beamed; his antennae bouncing happily as he skipped around Piccolo for a moment, humming joyously. He halted suddenly, as if frozen, before placing his left foot back on the ground.

"Will Earth be okay without me for a few hours?"

Piccolo raised a brow, a few hours? Dende needed more playtime than a few hours. He was quite certain that was Nail's insertion, but he agreed all the same. Gohan needed a weekend, at least - and so did Dende.

"Of course," he said. "When I died, Kami passed as well. Earth was without a Guardian for a little over a month. Besides, you're not leaving the planet. Just the Sanctuary. And only for a weekend."

Dende's eyes widened, "A whole weekend?" he said slowly, turning the thought over in his young mind. His little green face lit up with happiness - Piccolo never could get bored of a child's smile, especially not if he was part of the cause. "What are we going to do?"

"I," The older Namekian murmured, "am going to sit here and wait for you to tell Mr. Popo, and gather anything you need for two nights and two days."

Dende clapped his hands, so young, so childlike, and scampered off.

"Damn these kids," Piccolo sighed, watching Dende fondly, "little brats are making me soft." Of course, he didn't mind. The softness wasn't weakness after all.

Just a different kind of strength.

Piccolo awaited Dende at the edge of the Lookout. Mr. Popo was currently giving the young Guardian instructions to be helpful, observant, and as discreet as was possible for a green alien child to be.

Piccolo rolled his eyes, "Gohan lives in the middle of nowhere; no one who is not accustomed to aliens is going to see him."

Popo waved off Piccolo's growled sentence. "Now Dende, I want you to use this experience to better your understanding of this planet. Learn how it feels to the people of Earth. You shall find it very different than up here in the Sanctuary of the Lookout."

Dende nodded enthusiastically. "I promise that I shall!"

Piccolo huffed in impatience. He really wanted to get going. It would take at least an hour to reach Gohan's house; Dende couldn't fly quite as fast as he could. Much to the warrior's relief, Dende scurried over to him, waving goodbye to Mr. Popo and adjusting his grip on his on his small satchel of belongings. With one last wave to Mr. Popo, Dende leapt off of the Lookout, Piccolo close behind.

The two Namekians plummeted earthward for a long, exhilarating moment before Dende's courage failed him. Despite still having several thousand feet to fall, Dende decided to control his descent from here on out. Piccolo didn't completely mind; free falling still made him uncomfortable at times, although he could have continued for another moment or two.

After reaching a more comfortable altitude - it must have been the Godly magic of the Lookout that made breathing possible so high up in the atmosphere - the two leveled out, heading in the direction of the Son Residence.

"Piccolo?" Dende called over the wind rushing past their ears, "is Gohan's mother going to be okay with me being at their house?"

"Don't worry about her,"  _focus on flying_.

"You're staying, right?"

Grunt.  _Of course._  What was it with children and silly questions? Even Gohan and Dende, both mature for their age, still possessed that childlike innocence that so intrigued the warrior Namekian.

Dende, assured that his strange friend would remain close by, shot ahead of Piccolo in his excitement.

"Boy has more speed than I gave him credit for," Piccolo murmured, before catching up. He caught Dende easily, snatching the child around the waist and, with a blast of ki, exploded in the direction of Gohan's house. Dende held on to Piccolo's gi for all he was worth, antennae flattened to his skull by the force of the wind created by Piccolo's speed.

The two Namekians reached the Son household within ten minutes at Piccolo's increased speed. Before they could land though, a purple and blonde blur shot up to meet them.

"What is it Piccolo?! We don't have to f-...?" Gohan blinked in confusion, noticing Dende for the first time. "Fight...?"

Piccolo chuckled, "So quick to transform? Power down kid, there's no threat to earth."

Relieved, Gohan's hair returned to its natural ebony, eyes from turquoise back to obsidian. "With how fast you were moving, I thought for sure that something was wrong," he explained. "Then I saw you Dende, and got all confused. Piccolo would never put you in the middle of a fight!" he laughed, scratching his head. "How are you doing, Dende? Piccolo?"

Dende scrambled out of Piccolo's arms, dropping a foot or two before steadying himself, "I was lonely, so Piccolo told me he would bring me here for the weekend!"

Gohan's eyes lit up with excitement - Piccolo knew the boy didn't have much time to play, especially not with children his own age. Piccolo frowned imperceptibly, besides Dende, Gohan did not even know anyone his age!

Piccolo caught Gohan staring up at him, beaming.

"Thanks Piccolo! I'm sorry I haven't been able to visit as often as I want to," a small twinge of sadness passed through Piccolo as he remembered the days of training for the Androids. Times had changed so much... With Goku gone for keeps this time, Gohan was the man of the house. At twelve years old. Well, eleven if you didn't count the time in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber. That too sent a pang through the warrior. Had it really been seven years ago that he'd first seen Gohan? Six since he'd died for him? Gohan was growing up. "Piccolo?" Gohan asked, tugging at his gi, "Are you Okay?"

Dende floated up to Piccolo's face, touching his forehead. "He's fine," the little Namekian smiled impishly at him. Piccolo swatted Dende away gently. Dende mostly avoided Piccolo's hand, ducking out of the way.

Gohan laughed, "You were thinking, weren't you Mr. Piccolo?"

"You haven't called me 'Mr.' Piccolo since you were six," Piccolo muttered, ignoring Gohan's question. "Don't start that childish nonsense up again."

"Hahaha okay Piccolo." Gohan looked at his house, a hundred feet below them. "We'd better go down," he said, "My mom's  _probably_  having a conniption..."

Dende grabbed Gohan's hand and shot earthward, laughing joyously. Gohan joined in, allowing Dende to drag him, even though the half-Saiyan could have easily blown past the young Namekian. Piccolo followed at a more dignified pace, descending straight down, feet first. His toes, then heels, touched down lightly in the Son's front yard. Gohan was loudly and ecstatically telling his mother about Dende's visit. "You remember Dende, right Mom?!" Gohan chattered, still holding Dende's hand. "He came with us to Earth from Namek! He took over for Kami, now that Piccolo and Kami became One again."

Chichi nodded, bouncing a gurgling baby in her arms. "Yes, how could I forget?" Chichi smiled kindly at the young Guardian, "after all, you saved my baby while on Namek."

"Mooooooooom!" Gohan looked mortified, "I'm almost thirteen!  _Goten's_  the baby!"

Chichi shook her head, "you will always be my baby, no matter how old you get."

Piccolo emitted a low chuckle, walking towards the trio - really, quartet, if one counted Goten - and stopped five feet from Chichi. "And you'll always be 'kid' to me." he nodded politely to Chichi. "Dende needs time to be a child. Gohan's the only one I know." There was a feigned off-handedness to his statement, but he was well aware that Chichi would see through it.

"Not surprising," she said pointedly, a smile on her face. "You're not exactly the babysitting type." The two adults and infant watched the children in amusement. They were engaged in a game of "Extreme Tag" which, although the rules specifically prohibited ki blasts, was far more intense than regular tag, for the contestants could fly.  
"They grow up so quickly," the women murmured.

Piccolo turned to examine her face; he was surprised at how much she had aged since last he'd seen her, at Goku's funeral service almost a year ago. He supposed it had something to do with losing her husband, having a baby, and taking care of Gohan. She didn't look older, per say, just more mature, maybe a little calmer. Somehow, he doubted that she was any less of a spitfire than she had been at the Strongest under the Heavens Martial Arts Tournament.

"Yes," Piccolo agreed, nodding slowly.

Chichi adjusted her hold on Goten, using her free hand to wipe her eyes. "It seems like only yesterday..." she choked.

Normally, Piccolo would have been irked that the woman was displaying such emotion so openly, however, this time, Piccolo knew much of what Chichi was feeling; he too was watching the Kid grow up, and experiencing the pangs of parenthood.  _Parenthood_. He frowned.

Chichi didn't seem to notice. She was staring past him, out into the woods, back into the past. Piccolo felt like he was intruding upon something private. Sacred, even.

"Gohan used to love going camping with Goku..." she sighed, bouncing Goten in her arms. Her eyes misted, and she shook her head to clear it. Suddenly, a new, more energized expression crossed her face; Piccolo wasn't sure he liked the look of it. It only confirmed his early suspicions about her. "Why don't you take the boys camping?! Then I could call Bulma, and we can have a baby date."

Piccolo stared down at the mother of his best friend. He blinked twice, slowly. "Camping?"

"Yes,  _camping_." Chichi's usual commanding tone returned to her voice. "You know, like what you and Gohan did when you kidnapped him."

It took Piccolo a moment to decide whether or not Chichi was being sarcastic or light hearted. He caught a twinkle in her eye and decided upon the latter. He shrugged, "I wasn't questioning the activity. Merely that you'd allow Gohan out of your sight," he allowed a feral grin to grace his features, fangs glinting, "especially since I'm around."

He regretted his joke as Chichi pulled the dreaded frying pan out of nowhere. Baby in one hand, indestructible cooking utensil in the other, Chichi glared daggers at the tall Namekian. The two excited boys stopped their game. Staring. "Can't even crack a joke," Piccolo growled, eying the frying pan wielding mother and her weapon warily, "without everyone jumping on my back." He crossed his arms in annoyance. Or at least that's what it appeared to be. Piccolo was barely able to admit to himself that the woman intimidated him. A little bit. Not that anyone would ever know. Except maybe Gohan, whom Piccolo heard emit a small, badly suppressed titter of laughter. He scowled, damn kid knew him too well. Only Gohan would have recognized the look in the Namekian's onyx black eyes.

Chichi glared for a moment longer, giving Piccolo a look that easily would have frozen Hell over. The she smiled, "If you decided to fluctuate your vocal patterns, we wouldn't have these problems."

Piccolo sighed inwardly, but allowed none on his internal relief to show on his face. Gohan probably knew; Kid had that annoying ability to know exactly what was on his mind at all times.

"Are you really taking us camping, Piccolo?" Gohan peeped.

"What's a 'camping'?" Dende whispered, cupping his small green hand around his mouth and Gohan's ear.

"You've  _never_  gone  _camping_?!" the half-Saiyan exclaimed, his voice cracking and straining Piccolo's ears. "Never gone camping..." Gohan shook his head, disbelieving. "Can you believe that, Piccolo?" he called. At that moment, the adolescent boy looked exactly like the four- and-a-half year-old he had "borrowed without permission" all of those years ago.  _Very short years_.

Piccolo shrugged, "It's not a necessity, Kid."

"Yeah but it's fun..." Gohan grumbled. Then he brightened, grabbing Dende by the forearm and dragging the Namekian boy behind him into the humble house, "Help me pack and I'll explain it! You're gonna love camping Dende!"

"I didn't say I would do it," Piccolo growled, loud enough for Gohan and Dende to hear. But the Kid knew. He always knew. The sound of Gohan's laughter pealed pleasantly in his ears. Not too loud, nor high pitched.

Piccolo could practically feel the excitement of Gohan and Dende radiating from the two boys as they prepared to leave the Son Residence. Piccolo's trademark scowl adorned his features, hiding his inner delight at having a whole weekend with his two favorite beings. Despite his feelings on the matter, Piccolo's nature simply would not allow him to express himself. If the boys knew how much he was looking forward to this little trip, they might expect it more often.  _And that might ruin my reputation…_

" _ **Really?**_ " Gohan's voice cracked from excitement, "I don't have to do  _any_  homework?"

"You finished everything for the week," Chichi beamed at her not-so-little boy, her pride evident on her face.

"Thanks so much, Mom!" Gohan exclaimed, "I'll bring you home some flowers, okay?!" he hugged his mother tightly around the waist, holding her a second longer than he would have eighteen months ago, even twelve months. Then he dashed over to his friends; sleeping bag and satchel in hand.

Dende was clutching a spare sleeping bag of the Son's - Chichi had insisted that the boy take one - and had a smile on his little face not unlike Gohan's, though with a minuscule sprinkle of nervousness mixed in.

Piccolo smirked, in a watered-down sense, he was getting what he wanted; Dende in the wilderness. Not alone and fending for himself, but he would take what he could get.

Dende peeked over the top of his sleeping bag at Piccolo, "You're not going to bring us anywhere near... _dinosaurs_... Are you?"

Piccolo's naturally morbid sense of humor pushed its way to the surface, and, ignoring Gohan's muttered warning of " _ **Piccolo**_..." said:

"Don't be ridiculous, dinosaurs are  _juvenile_." He smirked, ignoring the small part of Nail's personality that was punching him, "they're so big that you wouldn't even feel them eating you." Piccolo snapped his fingers. "You're done. Saber toothed tigers and bears, on the other hand, are much smaller. If you're lucky, they'll kill you before they feed..."  _I wonder if I went too far?_  Piccolo scowled, noting Dende's apparent fear.

Yes. He had.

Only his fighter's reflexes saved him from Chichi's frying pan as she lobbed it at his head. Hand up. Catch. Glare furiously at the woman. "Again, I was  _not_ being serious."  _As if I would let either one of them get eaten._  He glanced at the frying pan in his hand. "Thanks. We'll be needing something to cook Gohan's food in." He ascended slowly and gracefully into the air, out of Chichi's reach, but making sure not to seem rushed or worried.

Chichi shook her fist at the Namekian, but she had a smile on her face. She understood him now. The frying pan, he was sure, was an admonishment, not a threat.

"You'd better bring that back, Piccolo!" she shouted, "I'll never be able to control my kids again without it!"

Piccolo rolled his eyes, smirking at the woman. He twirled the frying pan in his fingers, and holstered it in his belt with an elaborate flourish.

"Where are we going, Piccolo?" Dende asked. The trio flew slowly to accommodate for Chichi's insisted baggage. Gohan flipped upside down, flying beneath Dende and smiling up at his friend.

"He'll tell us when we get there! That's how Piccolo always is!" the boy beamed, shooting over to Piccolo, bumping into him. It was intentional, he knew it. Yet the fierce snarl on his face did nothing to intimidate the boy. How long had it been since he could scare Gohan? "Could you carry this for me, Mr. Piccolo?" Gohan held out his sleeping bag. "It's cumbersome."

Piccolo's right brow shot halfway up his forehead, wrinkling the skin.

"Do I look like pack horse to you?"

Gohan crinkled his nose, shaking his head,

"More like a mule!" Gohan shoved the sleeping bag into the Namekian's hands before plummeting earthward to avoid Piccolo's revenge. Despite his speed, he could not escape Piccolo's laser-eyes. The half-Saiyan yelped and rubbed his smarting rear. "I hate it when you use those!" he whined, giving Piccolo the kicked-puppy-face.

"Deal with it, Kid." He threw the sleeping bag back to Gohan. "And carry your own weight; you know the rules."

Gohan laughed and flew back over to Dende, who was staring awestruck at the half-Saiyan.

"I can't believe how brave you are," the young Guardian whispered, obviously hoping that Piccolo couldn't hear him over the wind – he could, and smirked at the boy's words. "He would have blasted anyone else!"

"He  _did_  blast me!"

Dende shook his head, "You know what I mean… It…it isn't that I'm afraid of Piccolo…He is very much like Nail… But…"

Gohan nodded in agreement, "He can be intimidating – before you get to know him!"

Piccolo frowned,  _is it just me?_

_~Yes._

_Shut. Up. Nail_.

_You could be nicer you know._

_I thought you two were supposed to fade away into the deepest recesses of my mind!?_

Piccolo missed the next exchange between the two children, and he would regret it later. He shook himself back into reality, catching the last two sentences:

"And I won't get killed?" Dende asked fervently, eyes wide.

"As long as no one's around," came Gohan's hushed reply.

_I don't like the sound of that…_

He passed the thoughts from his mind. They were nearing his preferred "campsite" – a place he'd discovered not long ago. Piccolo had not even shown it to Gohan.

Piccolo allowed himself a smile as he reflected upon his choice:

It was the perfect union of trees and space.

A creek ran through the young forest, singing a gleeful melody as it splashed over boulders, branches and subtle dips in terrain. The plentiful wildlife was mostly harmless - ideal for Dende. Some of the trees bore fruit, and where the trees ended and the prairie began, the smell of sweet wildflowers wafted through one's nostrils.  
Yes. It was perfect.  _No doubt about it_.

"Here," Piccolo angled himself downward, Gohan and Dende following closely behind him. Upon touchdown, Gohan and Dende gasped in unison, awed at the natural beauty of the place. Gohan twirled around, arms out, eyes heavenward, before flopping down on his back, an explosion of dandelion fluff surrounded him like a little cloud. The little Namek quickly joined him, sneezing as the flowers tickled his nose.

"This place is amazing, Piccolo!" Dende sighed, rolling over onto his stomach and twirling a daisy between his fingers. "It smells so nice. It's so peaceful!"

Warmth, less like a fire and more like an embrace, wrapped itself around him. Piccolo nodded, allowing a small smile to show through the mask. He had known they would like it. He was pleased that he had discovered such a lovely place. It was perfect. Quiet, secluded, but not in any way shape or form lonely. Piccolo slowly folded himself into his floating lotus, content.

"Make a wish, Dende!" Gohan handed the young Guardian a puffy white dandelion. He offered one to Piccolo as well. He shook his head. Gohan insisted, "you too, Piccolo! Make a wish!"

"Juvenile behavior," Piccolo muttered, but took the offered flower.

"What do you mean, 'make a wish?'" Dende asked, examining the dandelion. "These don't have any power, do they?"

Gohan laughed, shaking his head. "No, dandelions aren't magic like the Dragon Balls; it's really just an old story. But I like it. I used to wish on them all of the time…" he trailed off, looking sad. Gohan shook his head quickly, and Piccolo had the distinct impression that Gohan had been going to finish with " _…when my dad was in space, to bring him home safe and sound_." The Namekian warrior said nothing, nor did Dende. "Anyway," Gohan continued, "You're supposed to close your eyes, and think really, really hard about a wish that's important to you. Then – keeping your eyes closed – blow all of the fluffy stuff off of the dandelion. If all of the seeds come off, your wish will come true!" Gohan suddenly grew serious, "but don't tell  _anyone_  your wish!"

Dende looked at the dandelion with something akin to reverence in his eyes. "Have you had wishes come true?"

Gohan nodded, slowly twirling his dandelion between his fingers.

"Let's all make our wishes at the same time." Dende said seriously. "All three of us."

Piccolo raised the dandelion to his face, scrutinizing it. Sometimes Gohan confused him, with all of his childish tendencies. Was it simply because he was forced to grow up too fast that made him act so young at times? Piccolo stared at the flower. Was it possible that they could make a wish come true?

"Are you ready, Piccolo?" Both Gohan and Dende looked expectantly at him, eyes huge, innocent, and expecting.

He nodded, closing his eyes.  _Focus._ _ **Never**_ _._

"Three…" Gohan whispered.  _Focus._ _ **Grow**_ _._

"Two…" Dende's voice was barely audible.  _Focus._ _ **Up**_ _._

"One…" All three murmured.  _ **Never Grow Up.**_

Piccolo looked at his dandelion; all of the fuzz was gone. He smiled.

Night descended upon their campsite, swaddling the sky like a quilt. The moonless sky allowed the stars to sparkle brilliantly, winking and shimmering like a billion fireflies.

Gohan and Dende lay on their backs, pointing to constellations, naming stars, and searching for planets. Piccolo floated several feet behind them, covertly glancing at their bright eyes, marveling in their innocence.

"There's Mars!" Gohan indicated a particularly bright orb. "I have a textbook about space, and our solar system, Dende. When I'm done with the course I can give it to you – as long as it's okay with my mom – anyway, it says that Mars may have once contained liquid water. Pretty cool, right?"

"It isn't inhabited?" Dende asked, also peering at the glowing red planet.

"No, not that we've ever witnessed."

They fell silent for a few minutes, and then Gohan sat up, looking around at Piccolo. "Come look with us, please?" he patted the ground between them, simultaneously scooting over to make room for the Namekian Warrior.

Piccolo shook his head.

"Pleeeeease Piccolo?! Pllllllleeeeeaaaaasssseeee?" Gohan twisted at the waist, falling onto his stomach and staring up at his tall friend. His overly large dark eyes widened to an impossible size, shimmering and watering ever so slightly.  _Ignore it. Ig_ _ **nor**_ _e it_. He knew that he really ought to close his eyes, or at least look away. Gohan tilted his head, lower lip protruding and quivering ever so slightly.  _Don't fall for it. Don't fall for it. Damn._

Piccolo relented, planting his feet on the ground. "Fine, brat."

"Yay!" Instantly recovered, Gohan sat up. He moved over to give Piccolo more room to sit. Dende giggled, evidently shocked at how easily Piccolo had given in to Gohan.  _Stoic Mr. Piccolo, grumpy Mr. Piccolo..._ Stalking over to the two children,Piccolo rolled his eyes, and sent Dende a look that he fervently hoped clearly said _"don't even think about trying this."_

Piccolo lowered himself to the ground, resting his head in the soft grass and flowers. Gazing up into the blue-black sky, Piccolo allowed himself to completely relax.

"Since it's really warm, and the stars are so pretty, I don't want a fire."

"Me neither," Dende affirmed Gohan's statement.

"Fire keeps the animals away," Piccolo grumbled, not caring whether they wanted a fire or not. He was fine either way.

Dende stiffened.

"What...what kinds of animals?"

"Nothing I can't take care of," Gohan peeked at Dende over Piccolo's chest. "I haven't seen any tiger tracks, or signs of bears. But with your hearing, you'll know if anything comes close."

Dende nodded, though he still looked nervous.

 _Boy needs to toughen up_. Then again, that's what he had thought about Gohan. Piccolo stretched his arms over his head, tucking his hands under his neck and skull. Thinking.

He almost missed the giggle and mischievous look that passed between the two boys.

"What are you – OOF!" All of the air in his lungs was forced out in a painful  _whoosh_  as Dende and Gohan landed on top his chest, wrapping their arms around his neck and holding on for dear life. "Ge' off!" Gohan practically had a death grip on him. "Brats!" Piccolo launched himself to his feet, attempting to shake the boys off. His attempts were futile; if anything, they held on tighter.

"We're not letting go!" Dende giggled, fingers tightly entwined in Piccolo's gi. The Namekian warrior bared his fangs, and began working on prying the boys off one at a time.

"Get. Off." To call the guttural sound emanating from the Namekian's lips a snarl would be an understatement. "You know my rules, Gohan!"

"When have I ever listened to them?!" Piccolo froze, unmoving. True. Gohan never listened. Ever. The brat always hugged him, always jumped on him, and always leaned on him, even though Piccolo was very firm about his rules. They weren't even that hard to follow; no touching when other people were around.

"Dende doesn't count as 'other people' Piccolo!" damn kid had gone and done it again, guessing exactly what was on his mind. "Besides, you should let him hug you! He's a Namekian, just like you!"

"I shouldn't have ever let you fall into this ridiculous habit," Piccolo growled. He gave himself one last final shake in an attempt to dislodge the boys. It failed. It wasn't like he  _really_  cared. None of the Z-Warriors were around to see him being soft. Besides, he liked these too.

With a grunt of annoyance, Piccolo sat back down, and scooped the boys into his lap. Gohan grinned, settling himself comfortably against Piccolo's chest and abdomen. Dende followed his friend's example, although he maintained his hold on Piccolo's gi.

"Relax, Dende." He muttered, "I'm not going to push you off. Gohan would never forgive me."

The younger Namekian grinned, "Thanks, Piccolo." Slowly, he relaxed his death trip on the warrior's gi.

An hour or so passed like this: the boys nestled comfortably on his lap, heads resting against his chest. Piccolo was delighted to hear their soft snores, indicating that at long last, they had succumbed to tiredness. He watched them sleep, a smile creeping across his lips. Since they were asleep, they would never know that he enjoyed their presence, their unwavering trust. He hadn't really minded the stunt they'd pulled earlier, only that he had not been aware of it. Gohan was too smart for his own good, and Dende, well, if one wanted to be Kami, they couldn't be anything less than genius.

The brats had learned to shield their thoughts from him. He was certain that they'd planned their attack while he had been distracted by his mergers. But they had moved simultaneously; apparently Gohan had improved his telepathic abilities. Usually, when he tried to speak to others, Piccolo could hear every word he 'said'.

Gently, tentatively, Piccolo hugged them a little closer, hissing quietly as Dende's head dipped down.  _Don't wake up..._ He didn't. _Sigh. Thank goodness for that..._  Slowly, he shifted Dende back into a more comfortable position. He held his breath as the young Namekian scrunched up his face, twisting slightly and latching back onto to the front of Piccolo's gi.

How was it that two twelve-year-old boys could be so innocent, even after all that they had seen?

He thought of Dende, and how the boy had watched his whole village slaughtered at the hands of Dodoria, been killed by Frieza, revived, and then left homeless for a year or so. Then he'd taken up the mantel of Kami. That was a lot to ask of a young boy.

Then Gohan, whom had been kidnapped at four and a half - twice in one day - and abandoned in the middle of a desolate island. To fend for himself. Piccolo felt a twinge of guilt, remembering now Gohan's tearful face, and desperate wails of "Don't leave me!" Although he had not cared about the child then, and even though it had been for the best, he couldn't deny his part in forcing Gohan to grow up too quickly. He frowned, remembering his death at the hands of Nappa, recalling the feeling of horror flooding through him at the thought of the Kid dying. Gohan was the only reason he'd been brought back to life. There was no denying that fact. Then there was Goku's decision to not return to Earth. The Androids... Cell. Goku dying.

Gohan stirred, and Piccolo froze.

"Hey Picc'lo," Gohan mumbled groggily. He sat up, still sitting in Piccolo's lap. He looked from Piccolo's face, to Dende's, and back again. Very suddenly he said:

"Do you love Dende?"

Piccolo's brows furrowed, he liked Dende, certainly cared about the child. Wanted to keep him safe.

"Sure Kid."

Gohan looked away. Fiddled with Piccolo's cape.

"More than me?"

What was it with kids and questions? Why would Gohan ask that? Piccolo said nothing for a long, long time. No. Gohan was his favorite. His best friend. Gohan was his everything; the first person to smile at him, first to hug him, first to breach the walls around his heart. He was the only person among the Z Fighters who had never regarded him as an enemy. Been afraid of him? Only in the beginning. Only the first day they had met. Even then, the kid had insisted upon getting to know him before passing judgment. Gohan meant more to him than life itself, hadn't he proved that?

"No," he murmured, scooping Gohan up with the arm not supporting Dende. Gohan wrapped his arms around Piccolo's neck, resting his cheek on the Namekian's chest, top of his head nestled under Piccolo's chin. "I..." he paused, "You're my Kid, aren't you? Never heard me call him anything but Dende, now, have you?" Gohan shook his head. "Why were you so concerned then?"

"Cuz of Nail. And because you guys are the same."

"Nail is nothing more than an annoying pinprick of personality that flares up at inopportune moments. And," he paused, considering his next words, "Dende is like me in appearance only, he isn't a fighter, and I haven't taught him much of anything. You, on the other hand, may not enjoy fighting, but that doesn't make you any less of a warrior."

Gohan gave his neck a little squeeze.

"Promise me something?" he asked, not continuing until Piccolo nodded. "If anything ever happens, and you can only save one of us, save Dende."

Piccolo started, "What?"

"Without Dende, no one could be brought back. So save him."

"Because the Dragon Balls have always been my first priority," he growled.

"Just promise."

Piccolo's chest constricted at the mere  _thought_  of leaving Gohan in danger.

"The moment I got Dende out of harm's way, I'd be back for you, Kid."

That was as close to a promise as Gohan would ever get.

"Thanks, Piccolo. Do you think your arm will get tired if I stay like this?"

Piccolo grunted, considering his options. He glanced at Dende. He adjusted his grip on the boy, and slowly leaned back, finally lying down. Dende sure was a hard sleeper.

Gohan snuggled closer under Piccolo's chin, unruly black hair tickling the Namekian's nose.

"I love you, Piccolo." Gohan mumbled, sleep setting in.

"Back at you, Kid." He felt like he should just give in and say it. Gohan wasn't asleep just yet; he would still hear him say it... "Love you too."

In response, the Kid snuggled closer, radiating happiness.

Piccolo watched the night sky, picking out the constellations, wondering if one or more of those teasing lights were a sun of New Namek.

Piccolo awoke to find a butterfly resting on his antennae, and the boys still sleeping on his chest. The butterfly took to the air as soon as he twitched. He tilted his head up, eyeing the boys. As cute as they were -  _damn it, cute? Really?_  - They didn't need to be asleep. He sat up, startling them both. Dende yelped, landing on his bottom, and Gohan released a stream of obscenities - in Namekian too, much to Piccolo's amusement.

Dende stared wide-eyed at Gohan.

" _Where'd_  you learn all of _those_?" he sounded amazed, in a horrified sort of way, like the owners of a puppy coming home to find the place in shambles, wonder-struck by the destruction.

Gohan blinked, raising an eyebrow; he gestured at Piccolo.

"He says all sorts of fun stuff when you hit him hard enough. Watch!" the half-Saiyan floated up to Piccolo's level, but the Namekian snarled and swatted him away.

"See?" Gohan asked, and then imitated the sound his friend had made. Piccolo begrudgingly thought that the Kid had done a pretty good job getting the Namekian language down. "What does that one mean, Piccolo?"

He blanched, realizing what he had just done.  _Chichi is going to kill me…_  Yet he still searched for the translation, knowing that Gohan would pester him endlessly. Piccolo frowned, realizing that there was no literal translation, nor could he explain it in any way that made sense. So he shrugged, muttering "figure it out."

Gohan opened his mouth to protest, but Piccolo explained that he couldn't translate it. The kid pouted, but accepted the circumstance. "There must be some way to explain it," he grumbled.

Piccolo shrugged, "Probably, I just don't how to."

They both looked at Dende, almost expectantly.

"I don't know that one..." Dende mumbled, cheeks flushing a mild violet. "It must be a pre-cataclysm phrase."

The boys were fishing - or rather, Gohan was fishing while Dende played with a frog he had found. Pleasant heat poured down over their campsite from the late afternoon sun, which bathed the whole valley in golden light.

Gohan looked rather pleased, having caught enough food for himself to last the rest of the evening. A fish corral - made of sturdy sticks, thick bank clay, reeds and rocks - kept all of the fish nicely contained.

Piccolo watched the boys with soft eyes, peering out at them from under his brows, pretending to be meditating. The ruse was probably on vain; Gohan always seemed to know what was in his mind. Even as his thoughts came back to the present, he caught the half-Saiyan smiling cheerfully at him.

Piccolo rolled his eyes,  _damn kid..._

Then he yelped, in a very un-Piccolo-like manner. Shot to his feet.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" Dende had slipped the frog onto his hand. He flung the sticky creature from him; it landed in the stream, darting away unharmed.

Gohan dropped his fishing pole, doubled over, laughing hysterically. The boy hugged his sides, kicking his feet in the air as he rolled over (away from the stream) tears rolling down his face.

"Y-you should've s-s-seeeeeen your, your, your faaaace!" he cackled; Piccolo scowled, wiping his hand on the grass. "That's what my, my mom looked like when you used to come over unannounced hahahahahaaaaaa!"

"Shut up." He suddenly became aware of Dende's face, looking mildly scared.  _He thinks I'm mad at him..._

"I...just wanted to  **show**  it to you..." he mumbled miserably, wilting.

Piccolo sat down. Grabbed Dende, and pulled him into his lap. "You're fine." H muttered. Gohan jumped over to them, apparently recovered of his fit of the giggles. "Jealous?"

"No!" but he jumped on Piccolo's shoulders, ignoring the whoosh of air that shot out of his friend's mouth.

"Brat," Piccolo growled. Gohan giggled, settling himself comfortably with his chin resting atop Piccolo's turban.

"Growl all you want, Piccolo, you don't scare me," his smiling, singsong little voice said. For all his twelve years, he still sounded like the five year old Piccolo had died for all of those years ago. Happy, youthful, and most importantly, innocent. Piccolo sighed, reaching up behind him and lifting Gohan off of his head. He deposited the boy on his knee, and slowly levitated off of the ground.

"This," he growled, nodding to them, "does not leave this place. Understand?"

They nodded vigorously. Gohan, especially, knew the consequences of jeopardizing the warrior's reputation.

The three sat in silence for half an hour or so, still save for their breath, before an enormous rumbling growl shattered the quiet air. Dende about leapt out of his skin, nearly choking Piccolo as he flung himself at the warrior's neck.

"What was that?"

Gohan was shoved roughly off of Piccolo's lap.

"Feed yourself," he snapped, before disentangling Dende from his throat. "That," Piccolo muttered, "was Gohan's stomach." He shot a glare at his little friend; Gohan giggled apologetically.

"Sorry Dende! Piccolo, where'd you put Mom's frying pan?"

Having had several years to get used to Gohan's eating habits; Piccolo was able to ignore the boy as he consumed his meal with relative ease. Dende, on the other hand, could not help but gape as Gohan packed away fish after shoal of fish.

"Where does it all  _go_?" He asked, tugging on Piccolo's cape.

The warrior shrugged.

"Disgusting, isn't it?" he grumbled, tuning out the sounds of Gohan's dinner. "Imagine that was a dinosaur." Piccolo shook his head, opening his eyes and pointedly  _not_  looking in the stuffed half-Saiyan's direction. Dende shuddered.

"A  _whole_  dinosaur?"

"Nope!" Gohan giggled, "just the tail… I wonder if it ever grew back… You know, like a lizard's tail?" The boy finished washing his mother's frying pan, set it on the bank to dry, and wandered over to Piccolo and Dende. He plopped down on the ground next to Piccolo, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "Let's watch the sunset! And then I'll restart the fire and we can make s'mores! Mom packed enough marshmallows and graham crackers for all of us. And chocolate. She knows how much you like chocolate, Piccolo."

"But I don't like chocolate."

"What's chocolate?" Dende asked, "and marshmallows? Why do want more of them?"

Piccolo rolled his eyes. Gohan gaped.

"Gosh, Dende! I keep forgetting that you've only been on Earth for about a year – not even that! Boy, have I neglected your transition!" He began describing in detail the history of the s'more, even explaining the various techniques used in the roasting of the marshmallow. "I like to toast mine really slowly, creating a lovely crust on the outside. It gets golden brown and the inside is all gooey. Piccolo taught me how to do that. My dad would just stick it in the fire and wait for it to catch on fire, then he would blow it out. One time," Gohan paused clambering over Piccolo's lap and laying across one of the Namek's knees to get a better look at Dende's face, "one time, Dad blew  _soooo_  hard on the burning marshmallow that it flew right off of the stick and hit Piccolo in the face! He was  _so_   _ **mad**_! I thought for sure Dad was finished."

"The only thing that saved him," Piccolo cut into the story, an odd smirk playing across his features, "was the fact that my eyes were glued shut from the damn 'mallow."

Dende and Gohan stared at up him for a moment before bursting out laughing. Piccolo grinned wolfishly, remembering Chichi screaming at him and Goku to stop acting like children, and Gohan cheering for both of them in turn. He also remembered having to grow back several layers of skin on his face from the molten marshmallow. Chichi had threatened to outlaw s'mores after that incident.

Overall, it was a humorous memory.

"I'd like to try a 's'more,'" said Dende, wiping away a tear from his eye, "they sound interesting."

"Don't eat more than three, you'll get sick," Piccolo warned him.

"Oh yeah! I forgot about that. Piccolo threw up all over M – " Piccolo cuffed the boy gently.

"I thought we had agreed to never speak of it."

 

The fire crackled merrily, snapping and dancing on the woodpile the boys had gathered. Piccolo, legs curled in his customary lotus position, arms crossed over his chest, listened with feigned disinterest to his boys jibber jabbering on about mostly nothing. Gohan was in the middle of explaining the earth custom of a birthday party to Dende. The pint-sized Namekian was soaking it all in like a sponge, mouth hanging loose and eyes bulging.

"And they do all of that just to celebrate another year of life?"

"Yuh-huh!" Gohan nodded, noisily swallowing his thirtieth s'more. "I threw Piccolo a surprise birthday party one time. He was not amused." The boy swallowed audibly and reached for the bag of marshmallows Piccolo had on his lap.

The warrior swatted the boy's hand.

"You have had enough."  _More than enough_.

"Aww c'mon, Piccolo," the boy complained, "just one more? Pleeeeeease?"

Piccolo shook his head.

"Nope. You'll be sick." And dammit all to hell if their last day was spoiled with upset tummies. He allowed himself a small moment to hate his word choice - tummy, what was the world coming to? - and pushed the half-Saiyan back. "No."

"Aww but Piccolo," Gohan fell back on his bottom, sticky hands catching on the Namekian's arm.

"Don't 'Piccolo' me, Brat," he glanced at Dende, wondering briefly if the little Namek would make a grab for the s'more ingredients. He was too thoroughly amused, giggling through his fingers across the fire. The warrior rolled his eyes, pushing Gohan down again. "Enough."

Gohan stuck his tongue out, but relented.

"Fine." The preteen stood and headed toward the creek, washing his hands of marshmallow remnants. "Mom will be so pleased with your responsibility," he said teasingly. Piccolo chose to ignore the boy.

"Did you want a marshmallow, Piccolo?" Dende asked, also heading toward the stream. He offered the warrior his long roasting branch, stripped of bark and cleaned with the flames. Piccolo took the stick, even though he shook his head. He remembered all too clearly that last time he had indulged in the sticky sweet treat. And it wasn't a pleasant memory. It had ended with Chichi pinning him and forcibly cleaning his face.  _Incredibly uncomfortable._

"Do you two want to keep the fire or put it out?" Piccolo asked, not bothering to turn around. He could hear them clearly splashing their hands about in the water, washing away desert from their fingers and faces. Gohan was even using a tooth brush.

"Uh," it was Dende, "I kind of like just having the stars, if that's alright with you two," Piccolo heard him coming up behind him. The boy timidly sat down next to him. He didn't dare cuddle up yet, but his shoulder brushed Piccolo's ribcage.

"Fine by me. Gohan?"

"I'll put it out."

There was something in the Kid's tone that made Piccolo turn around. And duck.

Despite his quick movement, the warrior was soaked to the bone by Gohan's wave of ki-powered water. The fire sizzled out with a hiss, not unlike the one that slid out from between his bared fangs. Stupid Kid. His eyes, still adjusted to the brightness of the fire, took far too long catching up to the sudden dark. In that time, Gohan's giggles had subsided and he could hear the boy unraveling sleeping bags. "Sorry, Dende! I meant to get Piccolo, not you."

"It's alright," Dende said somewhere off to the side. There was a brief flash of light as the young Guardian materialized new clothing on himself. "Next time let me know, please. I could have easily avoided getting wet." There was not an ounce of annoyance in his tone. Piccolo, although less than amused, shook it off and stood, making himself a new pair of pants and a shirt. He didn't bother with a cape or turban. His eyes finally adjusted, and he could make out the shapes of Gohan and Dende attempting to do something with their sleeping bags. He frowned.

"What are you two doing?"

"Zipping them together!" Dende grunted, "to make one big sleeping bag."

Piccolo's brows furrowed, and he tilted his head to the side. It was a gesture he would have likely resisted during daylight, but the chance that either one of them had seen it in the starlight was relatively slim.

"Why?"

"So we can all fit!" Gohan explained, his voice smiling.

"If you brats honestly think that I'm degrading myself by climbing in a sleeping bag, you are sorely mistaken," Piccolo shot back, ignoring the sweetness of the gesture. To illustrate his point, he sat down in the air, folding himself up into his customary lotus position. He was going to resist this one. His dignity depended upon it.

"Aww, Piccolo!"

It was Dende, not Gohan, who uttered the dreaded phrase. And he could hear it.

The Look.

No, curse it all! It had progressed beyond a simple look. It had evolved into a sound.

He was doomed.

This was completely unfair. Not even with his eyes closed, in the near pitch black, could he escape the dreaded Look. Gohan bumped into his knee, Dende into his thigh.

"Plllllleeeeeeeaaaaassssseeeee?" The boys begged, in unison. The far off stars reflected in their all together too bright eyes. His face was heating up. How could this be happening? Seriously? Piccolo sighed in defeat, and the boys cheered, throwing their arms around his biceps.

"I told you, Dende, it always works!"

"Just you watch," Piccolo growled in a warning, "it won't work so well in ten years. I will personally guarantee that it won't have the same effect." He doubted it, seeing as the stupid thing had been functioning for so long already. But he had to defend his dignity in any way possible. Even if it meant lying through his teeth.

Before Piccolo could even fully process what was occurring, he was tucked securely in between Dende and Gohan. The Saiyan's arms were looped around his neck, cheek resting on his shoulder. Meanwhile, Earth's young guardian had curled himself up in the crook of the big Namek's arm, face pressed into his ribcage. One of the many pillows Chichi had insisted they pack supported Piccolo's head, and his strong arms protectively encircled the two sleepy children.

He listened to their tired stories, commenting occasionally, where he deemed it necessary, all the while staring intently up at the glimmering white, silver pinpricks light years away from them.

"Hey," Piccolo nudged the boys, "look."

Above them, streaks of white light beamed across the sky. Gohan stiffened at first, but relaxed as the meteors burned out in the atmosphere. "Shooting stars," Piccolo said softly, squeezing his Kid gently. Hundreds of them flashed across the velvet sky, visible for a blink, then gone forever. "Don't you wish on them, too?"

"Yes," Gohan breathed, snuggling closer to him.

"Is this like the dandelions?" Dende's voice was quiet.

"Yeah," the Saiyan replied, "I think I have a wish, too."

Piccolo knew what to wish for; it was the same as his wish upon the white dandelion fluff.

 _Never Grow Up_ , he thought to himself, quick eyes following the plummeting hunks of space debris.  _Never, never grow up. You don't have to stay this little, but please, please,_ _ **never**_ _grow up…_ He didn't want this to end. This phase where he was everything to the Kid, and more than just a mentor to Dende, was the most wonderful thing to ever happen to him. He didn't want this to end. And if they grew up…

Gohan's too-strong arms squeezed him, as if sensing some of those inner ramblings.

Dende's little hands tangled themselves more thoroughly in his shirt.

He pulled them a little closer, enjoying the soft warmth emanating from each of them.

_Never, ever, grow up…_

 

"I don't want to go home," Gohan sighed wistfully as he rolled up his sleeping bag, once again separated from Dende's. "I wish we could stay here forever." Piccolo lifted one of the massive backpacks, securely hiding the s'more ingredients in one of its linings, before fastidiously folding and arranging items inside. He said nothing, glancing from boy to boy.

"But then the magic would fade," Dende replied, more than a hint of sadness in his voice. He was ensuring that their fire was thoroughly extinguished, dumping water and sand over the remnants and stomping about in the mess. He hopped out, dashing over to the stream to wash off his shoes.

"Yeah," Gohan helped Piccolo to stuff items inside of one of the giant backpacks. "I guess you're right."

Piccolo reached over and ruffled the boy's hair.

Gohan beamed and tackled him around the middle. The warrior grunted, taking a step back and caught himself before falling over. He rolled his eyes in mock irritation as Dende ran over and joined Gohan, throwing his arms as far around the warrior's waist as possible. Piccolo sighed and patted each child on the shoulder before pushing them away.

"Enough, you leeches," he said, fondness quietly seeping through cracks in his walls and into his voice. "We'd better get going." He shouldered the heavy backpack, handing the other to Gohan. Dende took the sleeping bags, one under each arm. "Can you fly like that, Dende?" Piccolo asked, finding himself casting his gaze longingly over the camp site, taking in the trees, creek, grasses, wildflowers...  _One last time_. He was reluctant to leave. In leaving this place, he knew, time would continue, facing forward and pulling them all along with it. In leaving this place, Dende and the Kid would grow up.

How could the Kid grow up?

What was he supposed to call a grown up Gohan? He been "Kid" for so long...

And Dende... He remembered - rather, Nail remembered - the sprout hatching, opening his little mouth in a yawn and blinking curiously up at the world around him.

Piccolo shook his head before images of Gohan could consume his thoughts. Selfishly, his mind jumped to the Dragon Balls.  _Freeze time. Stay like this_.

No. No, he would never do that.

"Are you ready, Piccolo?" Gohan called, waving his hand around wildly. The Namekian blinked, when had the boys taken off? His heart tweaked painfully. _It's time to go._

With one last look around, Piccolo jumped into the air, catching up to his boys.

"We'll take a break in a bit for lunch," he said, more than willing to delay returning the boys to their respective homes. Gohan and Dende nodded, faces happy and sad all at once. Their flight headed back to Gohan's small mountain home was far more somber than on the departing journey, although that was to be expected, Piccolo supposed. _You did not think that you would become so invested in this little excursion, did you, boy?_  The part of him that was Kami piped up, nudging him to say something else to the boys. He had no desire to answer the Old Man,  _but at the same time…_  Piccolo adjusted the backpack against his shoulders, and angled off to the left, the boys following closely at his hip.

Lunch was a long, drawn out affair at Piccolo's waterfall. After finishing their food, Dende and Gohan paddled about in the pool at the cascade's base, occasionally swimming over to Piccolo by the water's edge and attempting to engage him in conversation.

"Hey, Piccolo?" Gohan shook his head like a dog, splattering the warrior with the crystal droplets. He pointedly ignored the glare Piccolo cast in his direction. "Do you think we can do this again? Just you, me and Dende?" Piccolo felt his face soften involuntarily.

"Sure, Kid."

"Really?" Gohan leaned forward, black hair slicked to his head, dripping all over Piccolo's shoe. The Warrior pushed Gohan back into the water with a smirk. The boy surfaced half a second later, spluttering. "Piccolo!"

Dende giggled and swam to the bank, climbing up and briefly flaring his ki to try off before pulling his robes back on.

"If he said it, he meant it, right?" the young guardian laughed, floating a few inches off the ground, mimicking Piccolo's lotus position, minus the crossed arms.

Piccolo rolled his eyes, smirking in amusement at his boys. He reached a hand forward, grabbing Gohan by the arm and hauling the Kid out of the water. He set the boy down on the grass and conjured a fluffy towel around his shoulders. He knew perfectly well that Gohan was more than capable of drying himself. He just didn't care, and proceeded to roughly dry the boy off, paying special attention the Saiyan's spikey mop top. Gohan laughed even as he struggled to free himself, flailing arms grabbing Dende's robes and yanking him back into the mix. Piccolo found himself pinned beneath the two giggling adolescents. He rolled his eyes, sitting up and setting the boys down on either side of him, but he kept his hands on their shoulders. Their laughter proved contagious, and he smiled, not caring that they saw, not even when they laughed because of it.

"Well," Gohan began, laughter slipping out of his voice, only to be replaced by contentment.

"We should get going," Dende finished, standing up and holding out his tiny four fingered hand to Piccolo, who took it, and stood, pulling Gohan up with him. Both Dende and Gohan yelled as he swung them both off of their feet, before setting them back on the ground.

"Alright boys, I," Piccolo paused, and let go of their hands. "Let's go."

When they touched down outside of Gohan's little cottage home, Chichi was hanging sheets on the clothes line, fighting with the wind that billowed them out like a ship's sails. Gohan and Dende dropped everything and dashed over to help the thoroughly flustered woman with the argumentative laundry.

"You're back!" her surprise carried on the afternoon air, tickling around his ears. She lost her grip on one of the sheets as a delinquent breeze caught the fugitive fabric. Piccolo deposited his share of the load on Chichi's lawn as his long legs quickly ate the remaining distance. Dende and Gohan already had the rest of the linens pinned securely to the clothes line. Piccolo helped her with the last one.

"You're back," Chichi repeated, smiling warmly at the trio. "I almost thought I'd have to send Krillin out to find you." She knelt and hugged Gohan tightly, the boy readily returning the gesture.

"You did not honestly believe that I would hide them away, did you?" Piccolo smirked down at her. She shook her head no, dark eyes twinkling with he could only assume to be amusement.

"Did you boys have a fun time?"

"Yep!" Gohan twirled his mother around once before hugging her again, "I missed you though."

"Don't you lie to me, mister."

Piccolo rolled his eyes, hearing the elation in her voice. "Well," Chichi straightened, "what about you, Dende? What did you three do?"

Dende scuffed his feet, looking down at his toes, cheeks flushing violet.

"Um, well I found a frog... We wished on dandelions and on shooting stars... Annnnnd um... We ate s'mores."

"Well," Chichi smiled and raised her face to Piccolo, "sounds like you boys had quite a full weekend."

Gohan nodded enthusiastically, and Piccolo shrugged.

"I... I suppose we had best be going, Dende," the warrior's voice was gruff, masking his reluctance well.

"Mmm," the guardian nodded, stifling a tired yawn. Gohan, too, blinked sleepily despite the early hour.

"Leav-leaving so soon?" the Saiyan asked, leaning slightly on his mother. Chichi's fingers tangled themselves in the boy's hair.

"Yeah," Piccolo replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Don't be a stranger, okay?" Gohan's bright eyes pleaded with him, and Piccolo found it was hard to suppress the smile tugging on his lips.

"Sure, Kid."

"Have a safe flight back to the Lookout, you two."

He nodded to Chichi and turned as if to take off. Dende and Gohan embraced before the little guardian jumped into the air.

"Hey Piccolo!"

He paused, and pivoted on his heel, catching Gohan as the miniature juggernaut slammed into him. His arms circled around the boy for a brief moment as heat discolored his face.

"Alright, alright, off," he hissed. Gohan beamed, and gave him one last squeeze before releasing him and dropping back to the ground. Piccolo pointedly ignored the looks from the nearby observers and "hmmfed" loudly.

He really was leaving now.

Although he had not wanted to end that embrace.

_Each moment with these brats is to be cherished._

He wasn't exactly sure if the thought belonged entirely to him, but could not deny its truth. Smiling to himself, Piccolo flared his ki to a level capable of flight, and left the ground. Up, up fifty feet... Something bumped his thigh.

_Damn it._

Piccolo waved to Dende to wait and dove earthward again, surprising Chichi and Gohan. He thrust the frying pan roughly into the woman's hands, patted Gohan's head and blasted skyward, stopping only to gather Dende.

Landing on the Lookout was the real ending of the weekend. Piccolo sighed, but the noise was hidden by Mister Popo's joyful salutations.

Dende waved, calling something back to the genie, but Piccolo was not paying attention.

He was busy filing the weekend away in his memories, carefully storing it in such a way that it would be easily accessed later, when the boys were all grown up.

 

_**Many Years Later...** _

 

"Daddy, Daddy,  _please_  can I go with you?" Gohan looked up from his backpack, pushing his glasses back up his nose. Pan was leaning against the doorjamb, gripping the wooden frame with her tiny chubby fingers. Her dark bangs fell around her large eyes. He smiled.

"Oh, Panny you don't want to go with me, it'll be boring. We aren't even sparring."

The girl pouted, slouching her shoulders and scrunching up her face. "Really, sweetie. Dende, Uncle Piccolo and I just sit around a fire and talk. Honestly. Very boring." His speech was getting him nowhere, he knew. With a small, quiet sigh, Gohan pushed himself out of his kneeling position beside the bed, and strode across the bedroom floor to his daughter. The top of her head, where he tenderly rested his hand, barely passed his knee. Crouching, Gohan cupped his daughter's face in his hands. "How about I take you camping  _next_  weekend."

"It won't be the same."

"Well," Gohan tilted his head to the side playfully; "maybe we'll bother Uncle Piccolo into sparring? That will be  _much_  more fun for you."

Pan brightened considerably.

" _Promise_?"

His smile captured his whole face.

"Of course, Panny."

She ran out of the room, excitedly yelling for her mother.

Gohan straightened, cracking his back with a grunt. He twisted, and returned to his packing. Really, he did not require much in the way of clothes; Piccolo or Dende were more than capable of providing him with anything he forgot.

"Let's see..." He cupped his chin, eyeing the backpack with a critical air. "I'm gone tonight, Saturday night and then coming home Sunday afternoon. That ought to be more than enough underwear and socks. I'm bringing extra of course, we almost always push each other in the creek...  _Hmm_ , I know I'm forgetting somethi-  _ah!_ " Gohan ran to his closet. Throwing wide the doors, the ex-fighter rummaged through the many suits, button up dress shirts, and classy slacks. " _ **There**_ _you are_ ," Gohan murmured, fingers curling around soft, yet surprisingly sturdy fabric of the deepest purple. He smiled, pulling the sparring gi off of its hanger with something akin to reverence.

Piccolo had made it for him during their last camping trip, and he had tucked it away, safe and sound, preferring to attend their sparring sessions in his own navy blue gi, if only to keep this one safe and intact. He smiled, pressing his face into the shirt, inhaling deeply. It still smelled faintly of the outdoors, of flowers and campfire smoke.

"Are you going to sniff that top all day or are you going to meet Piccolo and Dende at your mother's?"

Gohan jumped, fumbling and almost dropping the shirt. He hugged it to his chest, cheeks flushing a violent fuchsia, embarrassed at being caught lost in memories.

Videl strode across the room, coming to stand next to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "One last kiss before you go?"

"Oh I suppose I can manage that," the Saiyan's lips twitched, "just let me finish packing."

"Tsk, of course." Videl stepped back.

"Sorry," he laughed embarrassedly and folded the gi, placing it on top of his other bring-alongs in the bag. He turned away from the bed, running his fingers through his thick hair. "You know me, Videl." His wife smirked and nodded knowingly.

"Yeah, yeah. Mr. Overly-prepared."

"How about that kiss now?" Gohan asked sheepishly.

Piccolo sat, cross-legged in the air, head bowed and chin tucked against his chest. He was the picture of peace and solitude. Calm, quiet, and totally in control of himself, his emotions – aye, even the air around him was still and peaceful.

At least on the surface.

Upon closer inspection, one would notice that his scowl was not quite as severe as it was usually, nor was his breathing as slow. Rather, he was barely containing a small smile, corners of his emerald lips twitching towards his eyes. But he would never let it free. Not here, anyway.

At the Son's… _maybe_.

"Are you sure the Earth will be okay without me, Piccolo?" Dende's voice, although no where near as deep as his own, was no longer that high-pitched squeak it once had been, but it still had a childlike quality to it. Innocence.  _Yes, that was it._  Piccolo opened one eye, staring level into the young God's handsome face.

"Oh I think she'll manage. You're not leaving the planet."

Dende smiled, leaning on the would-have-been Demon King's shoulder pad.

"It's only for a weekend, after all."

"Hmm."

"You're looking forward to this, aren't you?"

Piccolo opened both of his eyes.

"Why must you ask the same question each year, Child?" Earth's Guardian laughed. Piccolo's ears twitched.

"Because I love hearing you respond with the same answer year after year." Piccolo rolled his eyes, and stood up, straightening his cape until the garment met his standards of tidiness.

"Are you ready to go, Dende?"

"Of course!" the guardian held up a small satchel. "I assume you're all set?"

Piccolo chose not to answer; he merely grunted and slowly levitated himself off of the Lookout's tiled floor. The now-fully-fledged God followed suit, calling a happy good-bye to Mister Popo, before angling himself in the direction of Gohan's childhood home, and blasting off. Piccolo shot a glance heavenward and easily caught up with the younger Namekian.

They had been airborne for a few minutes when the two sensitive Namekians picked up on a familiar presence headed in the same direction as them. Piccolo allowed himself a small smile as the Kid, miles away still, abruptly shifted his flight pattern and began barreling towards the duo at full speed.

He was visible now, a bright beam of light streaking across the sky towards them, slightly below the green two. He showed no signs of slowing. The warrior frowned.  _He wouldn't d –_

The full force of an adult half-Saiyan slammed into him from below, carrying both Piccolo and Gohan up several hundred feet.

Unbeknownst to the Warrior-Namek, Dende was in the process of righting himself after a series of airborne somersaults.

" _KID_!" It came out as a wheeze, lungs empty from having all of the air forced out of them by the man's crushing arms. "Dammit, Brat, I can _not_ breathe!" He wriggled in the powerful grip, protesting the contact for all he was worth, if only for the sake of his reputation.

_And a gulp of air._

_Air would be nice._

The Saiyan released him after one last squeeze, hands remaining on his arms. Piccolo looked into the Kid's face. He still was a kid, even after all these years. Sure, his face was more angular now, but no less open, hair shorter but still wild. Still Gohan.

"Gohan –"

"It's good to see –"

"You know that you almost  _killed_  me, right?" Gohan and Piccolo stopped midsentence, turning to face a slightly disgruntled Dende.

" _Oops_ ," the half-Saiyan chuckled innocently, "sorry 'bout that, Dende." The God shook his head, antennae bouncing like springs on his smooth forehead.

Piccolo felt a pang in his chest as he noted that Gohan had a few wrinkles that did not smooth away as he relaxed his face. The Kid was what, thirty-five now? He swallowed, before drifting in the direction of the Son house.

His ears pinned slightly.

 _What did that make Goten? Twenty-three? Twenty-four? Dammit._  He felt old, remembering the little tyke as just that, a little tyke.

 _Oh God, that meant that Chichi was…_  His thoughts were rudely interrupted as Gohan pulled him into another hug, albeit a much less painful one. The warrior raised his lip, as per tradition, but declined from struggling out of his Kid's grip.

"We'd best get the rest of the way to Mom's," Gohan said with a smile as he floated away and readjusted his backpack. "I know she'll want to see you both."

Piccolo grunted, and flew next to Gohan, noting that Dende took up flight next to him, effectively making the warrior Namekian line leader as both the guardian and scholar dropped back to just behind his shoulder.  _Just_  like the first time.

Chichi was waiting outside for them when the trio landed lightly on the Son family lawn. Or rather, Piccolo thought, twitching his ears,  _Chichi's_ lawn. Goten's ki was nowhere to be felt.

The woman was definitely older, characterized a few streaks of gray in her once jet-black hair and lines around the mouth, eyes, and on her forehead. She had yet to take on appearance of old age – Piccolo quickly calculated her to be in her early fifties. Plenty of time for the crazy woman to stick around. He hoped.

He rather enjoyed stopping in on occasion for tea and to hear updates on Pan, Gohan, and the others.

"You boys are  _late_ ," oh yes, she was the same as ever, hair pulled back in a severe bun, a scowl to rival his own set upon her face, and narrowed eyes, like a cat stalking her prey. Same old Chichi. Some things never did change, although the long-sleeved blue dress she wore was new. "I was expecting you half an hour ago! You're just lucky I had the good sense to put your lunches in the refrigerator."

"Sorry Mom," Gohan said with a laugh, scratching the back of his head "you know us." Chichi sniffed, crossing her arms and shaking her head.

"Piccolo's usually annoyingly punctual." Had he not detected the fondness creeping in along the edges of her voice, he may have pinned his ears. "Two o'clock sharp, every third Tuesday." She smiled at him them, and he blinked in acknowledgement.

"Really?" Gohan's voice held more surprise than Piccolo personally thought was warranted for the situation.

"I wondered where you disappeared to," Dende chimed into the conversation. The Warrior said nothing, closing his eyes and adjusting his arms on his chest. It was the same year after year; idle conversation, casual chatter, before Chichi shoved food at them and practically chased them into the sky. The dependability of it all was reassuring. Even as Dende, Gohan, Goten, Trunks, Marron and the rest grew up, got married, had kids of their own… This little weekend, this silly get-together that meant so much to them… It stayed the same.  _Year after year_.

"Well," Chichi said, handing them the last of the food and other supplies that she had shoved upon them for the past… Piccolo violently shook his head to stop that thought in its tracks. "I suppose you three had best get going. You have about an hour's flight a head of you."

"Only if the old man can't keep up with us strapping young gentlemen," Gohan beamed and elbowed Piccolo roughly in the ribs. Dende chuckled. Chichi shook her head at them and shooed them off the lawn.

"Oi!" Piccolo glanced down at the aging woman, reaching out a hand to snatch a thrown object of the air. He allowed his lips to pull back over his fangs and he flashed a smile down at his best friend's mother. It was the dammed frying pan.  _Of course._  How could he have forgotten?

Chichi's waving form was soon nothing more than a blurry dot, even to Piccolo's keen eyes. He twirled the beat up old frying pan in his hands as the trio flew across the earth, headed for their secret spot. Gohan and Dende were chatting amicably, catching up and swapping stories from the past year. Piccolo smiled, gazing softly at his boys.

They would always be his boys, after all. Goten too, but he had never joined in on the camping trip, partially due the age difference, and partially due to Chichi's understanding of Gohan's need to get away from his little brother. Piccolo sighed, smiling at the frying pan once more before tucking it securely in his belt.

"Hey, Piccolo! I see the stream!"

He looked up, nodding and angling himself after his companions, sloping down to the earth. He descended feet first, touching down and looking around them in approval.

Like the waterfall, the camping spot was unchanging with the years, with the exception of the few trees growing taller and thicker.

Wildflowers peppered the lush grass fed by the bubbling creek, patches of trees growing along the waterway. As always, they settled down on the edge of the tree line, and began gathering firewood from old, dried out wood. Gohan set about fishing, while Dende found stones to revamp their old fire circle. Piccolo carried about his tasks before settling down to meditate, removing his cape and turban. Within moments, Gohan and Dende were beside him, shoulders brushing against his.

He smiled, tucking his chin against his chest, enjoying the companionship, his boys.

"Oh, Piccolo?"

"Hm…?"  _What could Gohan possibly want now?_

"Pan wants to go camping with us this upcoming weekend. She wants to spar with you."

Piccolo opened his eyes, turning his head to look at Gohan, raised his hand, and pushed the young man away from him. Gohan toppled over, much to Dende's amusement.

"I'll take that as a 'yes,' then," Gohan said with a grin, "which is good, considering I've already told her that the two of us were taking her to the island."

Piccolo narrowed his eyes at the Kid. Gohan grinned, and Dende stifled another giggle.

Finally, Piccolo rolled his eyes and gave Gohan a lopsided, gentle smirk. Gohan returned it with a wide-mouthed smile.

"Quick, Dende, hug him with me while I'm still stronger than him."


End file.
